


Drawn Like Heartstrings

by newtype



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcohol, Canon Gay Character, Keith plays rugby, M/M, Menstrual Sex, Menstruation, Menstruation Kink, Nipple Play, Recreational Drug Use, SHEITH - Freeform, Shower Sex, Trans Keith (Voltron), Trans Male Character, trans author
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-05 11:09:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15169418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newtype/pseuds/newtype
Summary: A series of one-shots about Keith and Shiro navigating messy love and sex on Earth.





	1. Sweet Talk

**Author's Note:**

> I initially wrote these as individual one-shots and decided to post them together as single piece. I like to think of this AU as taking place before the Kerberos mission.

 

**I.**

He had better things to do. Bent over his knees, hands on his abdomen like it was threatening to explode was definitely not one of them. Keith chided himself for going this far without painkillers but he definitely didn’t need to extra pressure of Shiro knocking on the door. Outside, the thick miasma of techno music and voices swirled into a loudness that rattled Keith’s skull. Sure, he definitely wanted Shiro to open the door and see him kneeling over the porcelain throne like a pathetic loser. Not that he didn’t already know – that was one of the reasons why he dragged Shiro over to this party, why he insisted that this specific cis boy would be a better meat-shield compared to the rest.

Maybe a little too on nose. Keith shuddered and bit his lip, felt the sweat on his temple. His phone vibrated. Shiro was texting him.  _ Are you alright? _

_ Just peachy, _ Keith hastily texted back.  _ Just feeling like someone’s fighting a trench war in my gut. _

Another thud on the door. The doorknob rattled. Keith inhaled through his nose and felt his chest expand, for once welcoming the sensation of his ribs compressing and the impossible itch between his shoulder blades. He shouted something and the door opened. Shiro rubbed his neck awkwardly, staring down at Keith, neither of them not quite sure what to make of the other.

“You look rough,” Shiro commented.

“Thanks,” Keith coughed. The buzz was definitely beginning to kick in. Something strong was in those drinks. More music and screams bled through the door, which Shiro quickly closed behind him. No one seemed to pay any particular mind to the two guys behind closed walls; the lights were dim enough, the noise-level aggressive and impossible to break through. Whoever’s house party this was was going to have a hell of a time cleaning up.

Shiro’s mouth made a taut line. He frowned. Keith winced and propped his chin in the palm of his hand, knee balancing as much weight as it could hold.

“I can get a ride – we can go back to my place. Sober up and get some sleep. I have heating pads.”

Keith was touched. But he’d die first before letting Shiro know. As if he had a choice though – cramps were a pain in the ass, far more so if you were trying to pass them off nothing more than an upset stomach. Keith didn’t want to give the impression that he was fragile. Not that Shiro cared. But the world? The world cared way too fucking much. And that point only made Keith sigh with relief af Shiro made the phone-call, hung up, and rubbed his back.

“You okay?” he whispered.

“Of course,” Keith answered.

Lips brushed his temple. Keith didn’t fight back – he appreciated the contact. After tonight, he was touch-starved, vaguely jealous of all the mingling bodies he witnessed on the dancefloor, hands touching everyone but him. Shiro’s touches were welcoming though, mindful. Keith felt himself melt and lean into Shiro’s shoulder as he hoisted him up.

“Let’s go home, Keith.”

Home, Keith thought, now that’s a funny word.

 

* * *

 

**II.**

 

This nights practice hadn't been any different from any other, yet this time Keith felt as if his muscles were being combed through with a metal rod. He stretched his calves, beginning by bending down at far as he could to enjoy the pull on his back. Rugby was a special sport -- it made him feel closer to his body in the way only a hard contact sport could. The only dilemma was the inexplicable soreness that followed every practice session with the Garrison team, which excelled in their zealous adherence to their routines. Sometimes Keith wished they weren't constantly breathing down his neck, but that was a conversation for another time.

Unfortunately it wasn’t only his calves that were sore. Keith grabbed his chest and winced at the deep ache of years of binding. For safety reasons he definitely didn’t bind during practice, but being naturally large chested didn't help either. Rolling his shoulders, he wiped the sweat off his brow and snapped his sports bra, thankful to get the cursed thing away. 

Naturally, this was also the ideal time for Shiro to barge into the bathroom and ask if his boyfriend needed anything.

“Just sore. As usual. I feel exhausted. Also kinda starving.”

“I could cook,” Shiro offered.

“Aw. Sweet. But I’m alright. Just my back hurts.”

“Just your back?” Shiro asked skeptically. “You sure?”

Keith held his breath, popped his shoulder and finished up his current stretch. It was true -- he was sore in plenty of other places as well. He gingerly thumbed his bare chest, cupping his tits and giving them a firm squeeze. While they weren’t particularly large, he did take well after Krolia despite his years of exercise and training with the Garrison. Keith sighed at the touch, felt his hand trail to the pink of his nipple and give it a proper pinch. His tits were sore -- they practically ached and were begging for attention. Grabbing a towel, Keith wiped himself down, making sure to clean the sweat off him.

“I’m gonna take a shower. Do you wanna come?”

“In a second --”

“Okay,” Keith said. “I could really use a hand, though. I’m sore everywhere.”

“Need a massage?” Shiro offered. Keith felt the back of his ears prickle with embarrassment. 

“Sure -- why not,” Keith admitted. So far his plan was working. Shiro perked up at the idea of them showering together, and soon enough they were both back-to-chest at the water heated up. Keith played with a strand of hair and dug his nails into Shiro’s firm biceps, his heart fluttering as Shiro’s gorgeous laugh practically embraced the other man. Shiro’s body was warm, inviting, a perfect fit for Keith who was beginning to feel a chill. A thick heavy scent clung to the surface of Keith’s -- the deep green of the rugby field on a hot summer day. Carefully, Shiro led him into the shower and they closed the glass door behind as droplets splashed across their face. Keith grinned and held on to Shiro tighter, finding that they were a perfect fit despite the cramped space.

“I’m assuming practice went well?” Shiro asked. He idly played with Keith’s forelocks, sweeping them aside as the showerhead beat down.

Keith hummed and began to reach for the body-wash. “Well, as good as usual, I suppose. We’ve been really pushing it lately. Season’s coming up and everything.”

“That’s expected,” Shiro laughed. Keith passed him the wash, and without having to wait another moment he felt Shiro’s warm hands firmly cup his chest. He gasped at the touch and leaned back into Shiro, who was rubbing gentle circles into the soft wet flesh like it were a ritual. The lavender scent of the wash made Keith ease into his arms, let Shiro handle his weight and dissolve the soreness in his muscle like the droplets easing down his body.

“Feels nice,” Keith moaned. Shiro’s finger flicked his nipple, teasing the fat areola and kneading his pecs with the pad of his thumb. A shudder ran up Keith’s spine. He hadn’t realized he was this sore -- his chest hurt, naturally, but Shiro’s firm grip seemed to practically wash it all away within minutes. Keith bit his bottom lip, nudged against Shiro’s groin and felt his dick hard and pointed against his ass. As Shiro’s hands worked their magic, Keith grinded against him, excited to feel the wet tip brush against his holes. Keith didn’t mind -- he had no preference which end Shiro played with -- their foreplay in the shower was always being reinvented just frequently enough to keep things interesting.

"I would hope so," Shiro laughed. "You're so tense. It might've been a lot. I'm impressed you keep up with everything they've been throwing at you lately, Keith."

The comment felt appropriate. Keith stretched his back as Shiro let go of his tits, sliding his hands down his waist and squeezing his hips. Lips brushed the back of his shoulder blades, the sensation almost lost amidst the hot water dripping down his torso. He laughed as Shiro bit down, sucking the plump skin as if it were a delicacy, nibbling and grazing with his teeth before pulling away to concentrate on the other shoulder. Another shudder ran up Keith's spine, and he closed his eyes, felt the water fall through his hair, and quietly brushed it out of his face as Shiro placed a kiss behind his ear.

Shiro gave Keith's hips as firm pat, glad to feel the muscles relax with his touch and warmth of the shower. Carefully, he massaged Keith's lower back, rubbing his knuckles deep into him with a practiced focus. Keith's breath hitched for a second as he hit a particularly sore spot, making his toes curl as Shiro responded with a hesitant pause.

"You okay?"  Shiro asked.

"You know I am," Keith hissed.

"Just checking. You're really tense, y'know."

"It's shark week. My tits are sore. Of course I'm uncomfortable,” Keith mumbled. "Make sense?"

"We can fix that," Shiro teased. "My baby doesn't need to be so sore. Let me help."

Keith gasped as he felt Shiro's hands return to his chest, this time fondling the swell of his nipples and taking them whole into his palms. It felt heavenly -- Keith felt too embarrassed to touch himself this way in private, as if he was somehow violating himself  with the ministrations. However, as Shiro squeezed and kneaded his tits, he felt the stress from the sports field melt away, as if his boyfriend's hands were milking him after a dry spell.

Milking, Keith thought. He gasped as Shiro's fingers rubbed deep circles around his areola, slowly appreciating their swollen pink color. The thought planted itself, like a taste in the back of his throat he couldn't wash out.

"Shiro, don't laugh," Keith started.

"Of course not. What's up?"

"I want you to milk me," Keith said a little too fast.

Shiro paused. The silence felt painful to Keith at first. The hot water ran for a bit until Shiro cupped Keith’s chest with his palms, resting his thumb on their curvature with a delighted interest. Without another words, he squeezed them tightly, forcing a gasp out of Keith as he felt his nipples harden and be belted by droplets of water. A moan built itself at the back of his mouth, threatening to spill over as Shiro worked deep circles into him, teasing the meat of tits with a dedicated need to please. Keith stuttered, found himself searching for words as Shiro massaged the ache out, overjoyed that Shiro was enjoying this as much as he was.

“Like that?”

“Yes, fuck,” Keith gasped, “Like that.”

He felt his knees wobbled -- he didn’t think they’d be as relaxed standing up, but Keith found himself leaning against Shiro as he continued to work on him. Keith silently gave thanks to the fact that Shiro’s hands were substantially large enough to cover his chest, easy enough for him to release and squeeze them in a single gesture. Just as Keith began to feel the water heat dissipate, his knees bucked as Shiro’s cock feverishly rubbed against his thick thigh. Without any hesitation, Keith reached behind himself to stroke Shiro off, slowly wrapping his fingers around his member’s width with renewed interest. 

Admittedly, he felt a little bad forgetting Shiro while he was being mauled by his hands -- but now Keith found himself fully occupied with Shiro’s length, vaguely impressed at how quickly it’d become hard.With his thumb, Keith returned the favor by circling the uncut head of Shiro’s cock, making circles around its ring before sliding down to its base and increasing his pace. Shiro happily complied with Keith’s attention, thrusting into his eager palms until spurts of thick fluid dribbled through his fingers. Stopping only to catch his breath, Keith hungrily licked his hand clean and let the showerhead wash the rest of it away as he felt Shiro’s mouth promptly return to its spot behind his ear.

“We need to do that more often,” Shiro purred. Keith felt his own body hum with content as Shiro gave him one final strong squeeze. Practise as of late had worked him into a knot, so there was little surprise that Keith recommend that they make a habit out this. Naturally, Shiro came to comply and nuzzled the back of his head, allowing the other to rinse off before turning off the shower and reluctantly drying off.

“Still ache?” Shiro asked.

“No,” Keith sounded pleased. “In fact, I feel amazing. But you know what else would be amazing?”

Shiro picked up Keith’s rugby uniform, and stared at him with genuine curiosity.

“Dinner. I’m  _ famished. _ ”

 

* * *

**III.**

 

Three cups of wine in and Keith was definitely not having the good night his dad promised him. He held back his tears despite the knot in his throat, and tossed the framed picture across the room with a shaky aim. This was not how things were meant to be; these weren’t even his bottles of wine to be drinking for fuck’s sake.

"He'll be coming back," Shiro assured him. Taking a seat next to couch, Shiro rubbed Keith's back and folded a strand of hair behind his ear. Despite trying to comfort him, Keith sighed and shifted his weight, balancing himself shakily with one hand and holding his wine in the other. Shiro made a mental note to distract Keith long enough as to separate him from the drink. Fourth. Fifth. He wasn’t sure. And he definitely didn't need to have Keith throwing up on his own furniture at this late hour.

Keith's dad had been missing for four weeks. After a few days since the initial disappearance, it became apparent that he wasn't coming back after one of his drunken fights with Keith. Naturally, this left Keith with some much needed quiet around the house until he realized a week had passed since his father walked out. Then one week turned to three weeks, and soon enough Keith realized he was lost for answers as where his father might've went. The situation made his brain throb against his skull thinking, yet nothing ever came of the endless theorizing between him and Shiro. Finding a motive felt impossible, as if they were digging for daddy-issues shaped needles in a haystack.

"It just pisses me off," Keith spat, "That he goes up and leaves whenever he feels like it. It's not right. You just don't go and abandon your kid without telling them." He waved his hand, however Shiro wasn't quite sure what the gesture meant. If anything it was just another cue that Keith desperately needed rest. 

"He has my phone number. He could just dial or something, anything."

Shiro figured Keith was realistically transitioning from concern to his typical outbursts of anger. Which, from Shiro's experience, was not an uncommon reaction to family members disappearing into the night. Not wanting to press too hard for information, Shiro simply provided Keith with a shoulder to lean on when the going got rough, when it began feeling as it the world was unfairly decked against them.

Keith appreciated it. He reached out to Shiro's forearm and rubbed it. Although it was dark, Shiro caught a glimpse of Keith smiling, who was all the more satisfied receiving Shiro's attention.

"It's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong. Sometime things out of our control just -- happen, Keith. It's a tough world out of there. You of all people should know that."

"I do know, Shiro," Keith hastily replied. "But he took the car, took the money with him, and just vanished into thin air. What the hell am I supposed to do?"

"Talk to the Garrison. They'll figure something out for you."

"The Garrison doesn't need to know my entire life story either."

Shiro inhaled. Thankfully the young man sitting besides him wasn't touching his drink anymore. Carefully, Shiro reached out for his arm and lowered the glass on the table. Keith complied, sat it down, and leaned back against the couch with a deep-chested sigh. He was aggravated -- Shiro could tell that much. A creeping silence ate at Keith, gnawing at his ability to deal with other people in the moment, much less try to use his words eloquently to express himself.

That's just a symptom of closing people out, Shiro told him. We can work on it. You'll get better.

"I want it to get better, Shiro, I really do," Keith exclaimed. "It's really messing with my head."

Shiro told him that it made sense. That these things unfortunately happen to people all the time. That if his father came back, there would likely be consequences. That none of this was likely his fault. Keith would learn from this and grow, that it was going to be alright. It was going to be better.

That would be what Shiro would've said, had Keith not thrown himself into his arms with a quiet, wine-fueled whine. Shiro grabbed him by the shoulder, and felt the hot of his forehead against his cheek, undoubtedly drunk and flustered. As mindfully as he could, he sat Keith on his lap and wrapped his arms around his waist, hoisting the young man closer so that his back brushed against his chest. Keith took a deep breath, felt the burning swell of outrage in his stomach seize as Shiro gently brushed his hair, taking his time to stroke the full length of it.

"You okay?" Shiro whispered.

"I'm alright," Keith answered. "Not great, but not any worse."

"We should get some sleep. I can get the blankets and pillows from the bedroom."

"That'd be nice," Keith mumbled. However much Keith drank, it was obvious that it was beginning to work. This was just enough to make Shiro feel a bit less concerned for Keith, however the boy still clung to him with a disoriented need. Placing a hand on the small of his back, Shiro sat Keith down on the sofa and left to retrieve a blanket. Carefully picking Keith back up, he laid the other boy atop of him and neatly tucked the blanket into the cushions.

"Comfortable?" he asked.

"'Is nice," Keith muttered. HIs voice drifted in and out, lazily cruising to sleep. When Shiro was satisfied he'd fully fallen asleep, he slipped his arm around the other's waist, and buried his face into the plush arm of the chair. Outside a low drumming of cars passing by on the highway filled in the silence, slowly fading into an emptiness as it grew late.

Shiro yawned. He told himself not to check his watch. It didn't matter as much as being there for Keith, right here in his arms. Eventually, a tepid gray-blue peeked through the curtains, bleeding through into the living room and casting a soft shadow over the both of them.

They'd get through this together. Shiro would make sure of it.

 


	2. Cherry Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith convinces Shiro into trying something new with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: afab language and mentions of blood

**IV.**

 

Keith used to believe in a lot of things. One of them being that, despite it being his time of the month again, he shouldn't be aching for Shiro's hands between his thighs. He definitely believed he shouldn't be furiously rubbing his swollen clit in bed, panting at the thought of Shiro sliding his fingers one by one into him. 

Morning wood during shark-week was painfully awkward.

_ Men aren't supposed to have these, _ Keith told himself. It was an old matra but it helped.

However, he equally wanted to beat himself up  _ and  _ beat his meat.

And he definitely believed he shouldn't find all of it unbearably hot, that all he wanted was to be dirty in the most literal of ways.

He told Shiro over text. It felt like a power-move, but he was already too red in the face from his morning jerk-off to confront him in-person. Shiro sent him the sweating eggplant emoji.

"Sure babe, let's just keep the sheets _clean_."

Keith almost choked. The adrenaline coursing through him seemed to mitigate his initial anxieties, but he still couldn't knock off the tinge of shame. He wasn't necessarily supposed to enjoy being fucked while on the rag, but something clicked when he woke up this morning -- of course it was the hormones. It was always the testosterone. He considered increasing his dosage to stop the intermittent bleeding; he'd do his shot today and wait for Shiro to come home with a devious glint in his eye.

As soon as they were in bed, Keith found himself purring Shiro's name, holding back his bent knees as his puffy labia begged for attention. The wait was excruciating, but Keith was big boy and he could handle the few hours of rubbing himself off until Shiro returned. While Shiro pumped himself hard, Keith bit the inside of his cheek and idly toyed with his clit already peeking from its hood. When erect, it turned a deep reddish-purple that Keith loved to roll between his fingers. This time he begged Shiro to toy with him even more than usual this night.

"Like what?" Shiro asked.

"Raw me," Keith breathed. "I don't know just -- I need you to do it."

"For you? Of course.”

Keith swallowed, felt his hole clench, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that Shiro had a front-row seat to his wet bleeding. It felt disgusting. But Shiro smirked and cupped Keith's hand away, this time positioning his cock over his hole, bucking up against the heated hood of his clit. A throaty moan escaped Keith's chest as the cock’s head brushed into him, stretching his entrance before pushing through. Keith gasped, felt his hips jerk against Shiro's abdomen as he felt the warmth between his legs grow. 

"Fuck," Shiro sighed. "You're warm. You're really warm."

"I feel like a furnace," Keith answered through quick breaths. Something in his stomach buzzed, adrenaline knotting up inside him as Shiro pulled out. A few droplets of dark, red fluid streaked Shiro's cock, slick and lubricated from Keith's weeping cunt. Relief washed over Keith's body as Shiro swiftly penetrated him again, the fat middle of his cock pushing his folds apart with an unbroken focus. Keith grasped the duvet, knuckles white as Shiro bottomed out, pounding deep against his walls with each thrust.

Shifting his hips, Keith spread his thighs wide, pulling his right leg up to his chest so Shiro could slide in further. Without lubricant, they would normally have issues, but Keith's red-soaked cunt provided more than enough support in that regard. Pulling up against Keith's navel, Shiro reached for the other man's hand, entangling his fingers in his in a perverted show of seminent. Keith laughed from his stomach, taking the moment to pause and re-collect his thoughts.

"How you doing?" Shiro asked.

"No cramps so far," Keith chided. He stretched his arm out, stroking circles above his erect clit. Shiro dipped back into him, wrapping his arms around his shoulder just as Keith jerked his hand away. With more weight behind him, Keith thrusted against Shiro's cock, whining as he felt his hole expand wider to accommodate it. He didn't want to look now, but figured that he was causing a mess. Which might've not been entirely accurate, but he felt too caught up in the moment to check. Whatever was going on down there, it didn't seem to phase Shiro in the slightest, despite Keith’s initial hesitations.

“Oh,” Keith gasped. He felt walls twitch, engorged with cock and feeling impossibly full as Shiro panted and pulled out, only to stretch him open again in a single thrust. Keith swore he could feel it up in his bladder, that one spot deep in cunt being wrecked as Shiro increased his pace to a rapid pounding. Something about this made Keith feel overjoyed, stupidly glad that he managed to talk Shiro into this despite the shape he was in. From the corner of his eye, Keith caught a glimpse of a dull red streak against his thigh -- likely from Shiro having to wipe his hand after fingering him open. Keith’s face burned.

“You really don’t…”

“It’s fine baby. You’re fine.”

Keith groaned. He should’ve been disgusted with himself, maybe even shocked that he found this appealing. His bodily fluids were never a personal fixation but yet he welcomed Shiro’s private worship of his body with silent admiration. For once he felt oddly proud of his body, aware of his alien biology in a manner that didn’t ignite a dissociative storm inside him. Keith took a deep breath, feeling the tug of Shiro’s cock against his folds begging for entry. He closed his eyes through the slight pinch and dug his nails into his hair as Shiro slammed back into him. A fire was lit in Keith and he didn’t quite know what to do with it -- the fact that he was breaking an unspoken taboo gave him a brand new high. Not to mention Shiro, who was perfectly suited for the role of splitting him open as Keith struggled to emote anything other than frantic gasps. A thin layer of sweat broke across his skin as Shiro flipped him over,  forcing him to bend and display his cunt in all its glory.

“Look at you,” Shiro teased. “You’re absolutely filthy. This is the filthiest I’ve ever seen you. You really expect me to fuck you like that?”

“Oh, c’mon,” Keith hissed. Shiro playfully slapped his ass. It stung and made Keith’s toes curl in excitement.

Grabbing a handful of his inner-thigh, Shiro worked his hand up to his dripping cunt, experimentally swatting Keith’s enlarged clit with a few swift motions. Immediately Keith felt his throat lock, his legs go numb from pleasure as Shiro struck his clit again and again, intermittently taking the globes of his ass in the other hand and firmly groping him. With his thighs stained red, Keith couldn’t fathom how Shiro felt, but he figured as long as he was pleasuring him then it was fine -- the mess of hormones in his system made his cunt throb, practically cry for attention even if it meant receiving the back of Shiro’s hand.

“Hurt much?” Shiro asked.

“No,” Keith practically choked. “No, keep going. Keep going or I’m actually going to scream.”

“Really?”

With that, Shiro dipped his fingers into Keith’s weeping hole, pushing well past the knuckles into his pulsating ring. Keith writhed, felt his stomach twist at the sensation knowing well that he was one with the idea in the first place. He ached for it. He felt his knees bump up against his navel, pressing into it as he raised his ass for Shiro to greedily manhandle. Begging -- that’s what he was doing. Begging for his dirty cunt to be pried apart just to satisfy the deep ache for contact. He was fertile, could feel himself clench at the thought of Shiro coming inside him and coating his womb. Just imagining it suddenly made his body temperature rise, face flush with second-hand embarrassment. Without pause, he reached for his clit, hand cupped and ready until he felt Shiro swat it away with an authoritative smirk.

“Nope. My pretty boy isn’t getting himself dirty. Let me handle it this,” Shiro said with unmistakable confidence.

Keith groaned into the sheets but obliged and eagerly spread his legs open. He prayed he wasn’t marked in his own blood, but felt his gut sink when Shiro whistled with enthusiasm. A hand snaked up his sides, taking full advantage of his exposed back to get a proper grip before plunging inside. Keith shuddered at the sensation of Shiro bottoming out inside him again, this time taking no reservations in how he railed the inside of Keith’s already beaten walls. Another slap on the ass was all it took for Keith to feel himself rocking off the edge, come closer to finishing as Shiro began toying with his punctuated clit. Keith buried a scream into the pillows as Shiro twisted it, rubbing fierce circles into the hood and pulling it back to prod its head. He cursed himself to oblivion for seeing stars, vision cloudy and obscured from the haze of pleasure as Shiro made quick use of his cunt’s wetness. 

Another slap to his clit extracted a muffled whine from Keith, who at this point was beginning to consider the next time Shiro could use him like this again. His cunt clenched with anticipation as Shiro continued pounding into him like clockwork, determine and focused entirely on Keith who could’ve just about lost his mind. Keith tried his best to ride out the rhythm grinding deeper into his pussy, legs as far apart as they could go as he hungrily clenched around the bulk of Shiro’s cock. A satisfying wet noise accentuated his gasps as Shiro grabbed his arm, locking him in place and digging his fingernails deep inside him.

“Not yet,” Shiro grunted.

“Fuck,  _ come on, _ ” Keith whined. “You’re killing me over here.”

“Hm, no. Not sure about that yet.”

Keith held his breath as Shiro pulled out, jerking himself off until he pushed the head of his cock up against his clit again. Without fully penetrating, he continued toying with Keith until a frustrated moan drove itself out from his dry throat. Keith’s ears pricked at the sound of Shiro sighing as his cunt swallowed his cock again, burying deep inside it until Keith swore he felt it bump against his belly. It felt good. It felt ridiculously good, laying on the bed, bloodied from his body’s own functions, being railed by his eager boyfriend. Goosebumps scattered themselves across Keith’s skin. His fingers arched into the duvet as Shiro made good use of his thighs and squeezed them hard, taking his time to appreciate their thick shape. 

Usually Keith regretted thinking about his body at this point. He tried to avert his thoughts away from imagining his cervix being penetrated and his tight womb filling up. But in the end, Shiro’s gentle encouragements won and Keith gave a pitiful cry as Shiro accelerated his pace.

“Deeper, deeper, ruin my cunt,” Keith begged. “Please fill me up, please. I wanna be full.” His face was burning. He couldn’t believe he was such such things. But he felt his mind kept resetting itself back to wanting more and more.

Part of him wanting to scream and the other wanted it rougher, and Keith found himself struggling to appease both wants. He bit his fist as Shiro answered his demands, snapping back harder into his already swollen hole. The friction felt too good to stop; Keith needed more to finish, _ he needed it right now. _ Following his cues, Shiro hastily stroked the sides of Keith’s face and announced he was close, that he was about to come inside him. Keith cried, overjoyed that despite being a mess he was not only being fucked, but being sloppily fucked raw. The pressure building up in his walls threatening to spill into his belly quickly came too much to bear, driving a scream from Keith until he closed his eyes and for a second saw only white. When he opened them again, Shiro was panting heavily, covered in a fine layer of sweat as he finished. A pronounced thread of menstrual blood and semen followed his cock as he pulled out, but neither of them gave any mind. Keith found himself practically purring as Shiro held his cock in one hand, and stroked Keith’s head with the other.

"How was that?"

"What do you think?" Keith laughed. He could’ve been glowing with pleasure at this point for all he cared. “Of course it was good,” he said sleepily.

"Well, it's always good to try something new," Shiro admitted. He playfully drew his fingers through Keith's hair, combing out the knots, acknowledging the softness. Keith's chest rises and falls as he catches his breath, content and utterly pleased with himself. The smirk on his face is the only answer Shiro needs before he joins his side, exhausted. A soft hum from the fan fills the room, slowly guiding Keith to close his eyes as Shiro finds himself alone in thought. A shower, he reminds himself.

He goes to draw the water, promises himself to wake up Keith when its done. Something about hot water relaxing muscles. Warm, wet air fills his lungs. Absent-mindedly, he checks his reflection, wipes down his cock with a few gestures, and silently watches the bathtub fill with clear, steaming water.

Peace and quiet.

**Author's Note:**

> Make sure to leave kudos/a comment if you enjoyed it!
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/watsnewbussycat)


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